Ever in Your Favor
by pishymishy
Summary: Set two years after the events of Mockingjay, Katniss and Gale try to see if there's anything worth saving between them.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own the Hunger Games.**  
**_

* * *

**Prologue.**

"Any nightmares this week?"

"Just the one."

"Same one?"

"Yes."

Dr. Agatha, a middle-aged woman with a kind face and graying temples, sat across from her one o'clock appointment, whose grey eyes hinted at a worldliness, a knowing, a tragedy, so rarely found in someone so young.

But then again, the young woman with the sad eyes was not like the others.

"And Peeta? How are things with him?"

There was a pause. Dr. Agatha could tell she was searching for words, her mouth pulled into a tight line.

"Difficult," came the reply, "but we were able to have a conversation last week where he didn't look like I killed something in him." She shook her head and frowned at her accomplishment.

"I still feel so guilty," she continued. "And seeing him is painful. I feel like I don't have a right to feel anything towards him."

"These things take time. Both you and Peeta have a lot of healing to do," Dr. Agatha spoke slowly, gently. "There's no right or wrong here. No… winner."

The girl simply nodded her head, her hands fiddling with the end of her simple braid.

Dr. Agatha decided to change the topic. "Any word from your mother?"

"We spoke on the phone the other day. We were thinking that it might be good to see each other."

"Do you want to see her?" Dr. Agatha asked.

"Yes," the word is drawn out slightly. "Prim would like that."

"Don't force yourself."

"No, I think, I mean," the girl tripped over her words, "I want to see her. She's all I have left and it's been a while since I saw her last."

"How long has it been?"

Immediately her eyes became distant and Dr. Agatha could tell she was recalling a past memory.

"Probably a year ago," the girl's voice came out deeper now. "It wasn't a good visit."

Dr. Agatha said nothing in response but let the silence linger, waiting.

"It would be good to see her. I think I'm ready this time. Things could be…different." The young woman was about to say 'better' but then she thought that maybe she was hoping for too much.

"It's a wonderful indication of just how far you've come to even want to see your mother," Dr. Agatha replied.

"Yes." It sounded hollow to them both.

"Well then, is there anything else you want to discuss today?" Dr. Agatha said with a glance at the clock.

Dr. Agatha waited silently while her patient struggled with herself, conflicting emotions playing across her face. There was one topic that Dr. Agatha hoped the girl would bring up, having figured out early that it was hands-off until she herself was ready to talk about it. It was often the case that patients who walked through her door had an "elephant" subject—one they refused to discuss and danced circles around until they were exhausted and caved.

And for the young Katniss Everdeen, that elephant came by the name of Gale Hawthorne.

Katniss opened her mouth, eyes large and hopeful, and for a moment Dr. Agatha thought that today would finally be the day they would talk about their relationship and subsequent falling out.

Dr. Agatha had hoped too soon.

"No," Katniss' voice was disappointed and resigned, "there's nothing else."


	2. Ch 1: The Way We Were

**Chapter 1: The Way We Were**

It had taken a while to get Katniss to see Dr. Agatha as someone to trust. Although Katniss had been in therapy for over a year, she had spent many sessions in silence, watching the clock until it struck 2 p.m., and she was up out of her seat as if it were on fire. Dr. Agatha had been tested like never before in overcoming Katniss' suspicions and open hostility. Even after years of practice, there were some days she fought her own frustrations at Katniss' unwillingness to put down her figurative bow and trust people again.

However, Dr. Agatha was able to slowly, ever so painstakingly, chip at Katniss' defenses but she was unprepared for what she had found past the walls. It constantly amazed her that this young girl, so unassuming, so tiny against the large expanse of the couch she sat upon, had done and seen the things that she had. That this same girl was the spark of a whole movement, an entire revolution. She had killed; she had survived.

If the result was her survival, then the cause was unfathomable trauma, unthinkable personal tragedy, and the loss of nearly everything she held dear.

It was remarkable that Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, hadn't been completely consumed.

* * *

"I'm thinking of seeing him," Katniss blurted out suddenly, interrupting Dr. Agatha mid-speech. She was about to end their session for the week when Katniss caught her off guard.

Recovering from her surprise quickly and proceeding with caution, Dr. Agatha merely asked, "Who?"

Katniss' gaze fell to her lap. "Gale."

"Tell me about Gale."

And there, right there, Dr. Agatha saw a side of Katniss that she had never seen before. Her face somehow became younger, taut lines softening, and there seemed to be a lightness to her, a more relaxed feeling to her demeanor.

"He's my best friend," Katniss' response was immediate. She spoke softly and in the greyness of her eyes Dr. Agatha saw something reminiscent of happiness. Of affection.

And as sudden as it had appeared, it vanished, replaced by the misery so often found there. "Was," Katniss corrected herself. "He _was_ my best friend."

Katniss's gaze was distant as she struggled against herself, her hands gripping the edges of the cushion on her lap. Dr. Agatha remained silent and waited, willing Katniss to have the courage to go down this path.

After what seemed like hours, Katniss took a deep breath, but didn't tear her eyes from the clouds just beyond the window.

She began with their first meeting and how she earned herself a nickname that, while annoying at first, came to be something she so desperately missed now that she could no longer hear it. She explained the hunting trips, and the woods that comforted and protected her, the endless summers spent in no one's company but their own. He taught her how to set snares, and when she had no one to rely on, she had him.

"Those seem like happy memories," Dr. Agatha said.

"Gale used to say that I only ever smiled in the woods." After a moment, Katniss added sadly, "I can't remember if that's true or not."

"So then what happened?"

Katniss opened her mouth but no words came. Looking impossibly sad, the shine of her eyes was surprising and telling, but no tears fell. More than anything, she seemed lost.

"I couldn't even begin to say," she whispered, not trusting her voice and fixing her gaze on the individual threads of the couch fabric.

Dr. Agatha didn't press further.

* * *

The topic of Gale Hawthorne came up in their next session together, and again after that. Through her stories and accounts, Dr. Agatha was able to piece together that Katniss and Gale had been impossibly close, floating somewhere between the romantic and the platonic, and that her reaping for the Hunger Games and their participation in the war had changed everything between them.

The question that remained, that plagued, was if the change that had damaged them was irreparable.

"What are you hoping to achieve by visiting him?" Dr. Agatha asked in reply to Katniss' suggestion that she find him.

"I want to know how he is," she replied vaguely.

Dr. Agatha leveled her with a look, "I'm sure you don't need to go all the way to district 2 to find out that kind of information." And she was right; there was his family right there in district 12.

"I want to know why he's never bothered to contact me in all this time—" Katniss tried again.

"Well, you didn't contact him either," Dr. Agatha reminded her. "Communication is a two-way street."

Katniss didn't reply but by the setting of her jaw, Dr. Agatha was sure she was upset. "And why now? It's been two years already."

"Because I _want_ to see him now," Katniss snapped.

"But why?" Dr. Agatha pressed. "If Gale walked in this door right now, what would you do? Say?"

The rapid-fire questioning left Katniss scrambling for words. In all her thinking about going to see Gale, it never occurred to her what she would do once she saw him.

"I'm not sure," Katniss reached for her forehead, just above her left eye. "I guess I just want to know…" she trailed off, contemplating the honesty of her next words.

"I want to know what happened to us," she replied, shaking her head. "Why are we apart when it once seemed like we'd be together always?"

"Katniss," Dr. Agatha's voice was more gentle now, soothing almost. "I understand that losing someone important to you is difficult." In Katniss' case, and with many with similar cases, patients had a hard time adjusting to their new lives and roles and clung to what was familiar. Sought what had provided them safety. It was not difficult to see why Katniss wanted to see Gale.

"But you have to consider that maybe things are exactly as they should be," Dr. Agatha continued. Katniss' head snapped up to shoot her with an incredulous look.

"What I mean is that you should consider that although you shared something truly special with Gale, it might have been exactly what you needed then… and no longer what you need now. Especially with what you've both experienced, it may be that you've become two different people that can't return to they way you once were. It's sad, yes, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. What you had with Gale was beautiful, in its own way; something you can be proud of and cherish. Not everyone is as lucky."

"Simply put," Dr. Agatha spoke slowly now, "You may be trying to hold on to something that no longer exists."

Katniss sat for a long time, concentration creasing her forehead. Words upon words and experience compound in her mind as she processed each moment with painstaking clarity.

"Well then," when she finally spoke, her voice was set. "I guess that is something I will just have to find out for myself."

* * *

Gale Hawthorne woke up promptly at 5:30a.m.—sometimes alone, sometimes not—without fail. A creature of habit, he began his days with a long run, seeking out whatever bits of nature he could find in the district, and relished in the silence of the morning before the city woke. Breakfast, news updates accompanied his shower and shave, and he was stepping into his office at 7:55 a.m.

Walking into his office building, in the heart of the city, was like walking into a mini-disaster zone. There was a flurry of activity, people scurrying back and forth holding cups of coffee and portfolios crammed with latest reports. It was business as usual.

He waved to some of the receptionists, who greeted him with their biggest smiles and most alluring stares—it was no secret that Gale Hawthorne, with his height, dark hair, and brooding stare, was a wanted man.

His assistant, another young person like himself from an outlying district, met him with a cup of coffee and a small stack of folders held in the crook of her slender arm.

"Good morning Gale," she said professionally, although the corners of her mouth were pulled slightly downwards. He gratefully relieved her of the coffee mug in her hands, and accepted the folders.

"Kala," he said simply.

"You're wanted in 15 minutes for the press interview," she prompted him quickly, following behind him as he made his way past her desk and towards his own office. "Mr. Finch needs those approved ASAP, and—" she ran out of words and reached out to lightly touch his sleeve.

Gale only momentarily paused. He hoped he wouldn't have to get a new assistant. He actually liked Kala.

"Everything alright?" he asked as he sidestepped around her and beyond her reach.

"Wait, Gale, you have-" she called out, sounding slightly desperate.

Her voice died on her lips as he opened his office door to find that it was already occupied with a solitary, achingly familiar figure. Gale stopped dead in his tracks.

"A visitor," Kala finished lamely.

There, Katniss Everdeen stood stock still in the middle of his office, gazing at him with apprehensive eyes.


	3. Ch 2: Crawl

**Chapter 2: Crawl**

He takes in the sight—the olive skin so similar to his own, the grey eyes, darkened with apprehension, the confounding braid of her dark hair that has taunted him endlessly over the years, and the grip of her hands on the strap of a bag slung across her body.

He takes in the sight of her and thinks it must be a living dream, this phantom from his past, this figure of his deepest desire. But then his assistant is flittering behind him nervously and he knows that this must be real.

"I didn't know where you lived," her voice reaches his ears and there is a momentarily pang in his heart, a longing so acute, that pulls him from within and reaches out towards her in desperation. It's a murmur, a remnant of their former connection that understands her without reason or thought. And he knows her words are a means of an explanation and an apology.

_This is real. This is happening._

There's a ringing in his ears as Gale stands there, taking in the rest of his office, his eyes stabilizing on the things that can ground him in some sort of reality. He nods his head incessantly and says nothing, much to his embarrassment. In all of his daydreams about how their reunion would be, in none of them was he reduced to a lame mute.

Dr. Agatha had told her to prepare for this—that there was a likelihood that her presence would not be welcomed, even rejected. And for all of her preparation, Katniss felt wave after conflicting wave wash over her at the very sight of him. Feelings of joy, guilt, relief, heartache, guilt, anger—but mostly sadness—crashed into her and before she knew it, she felt her body trembling under the weight of the moment.

Perhaps it was too soon. Her mind is racing with half-formed sentences that collide with each other leaving her without words to say.

It's only then that she notices how parched her throat is.

Gale cleared his throat, breaking the unsettling silence that perforated the room. "Kala," he glanced at his assistant, who was wide-eyed and watching the soundless exchange with eagerness, and saw her perk up to attention. "Please get Kat—" forming her name was both familiar and clumsy to his mouth. He tried again, "Please get Ms. Everdeen some tea."

He turned to speak his first words to Katniss in two years. "Mint, was it?"

Katniss nodded.

_Ms. Everdeen._

"Yes, I'll be right back," Kala said, quickly exiting the room.

And then Gale and Katniss were alone with nothing but a small table and a chair separating them. They made no movements, no attempts at conversation.

_Ms. Everdeen. _

Was she still an Everdeen? Gale had let the formal address slip from his mouth without even knowing if she had traded in her last name for Peeta's. It was true that he had been a poor communicator, but surely his mother would have told him if his former(?) best friend went and got herself married. He made a mental note to call his mother on the weekend.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, to kill the stifling tension, to end this encounter, to get away as soon as possible, but his words falter on two simple words.

_Ms. Everdeen._

Katniss had bristled at the formality of his address. Never in her life had he ever called her _Ms. Everdeen_; she had always been Katniss, or more sentimentally, Catnip, but now it seemed that to Gale she was nothing more than _Ms. Everdeen_. Katniss felt the sting of his words acutely and it only added to her growing worry that this was a bad idea after all.

Gale's roaming gaze had settled on her hands, white-knuckled against her skin. Her clenched fists mirrored his own sweaty palms, and he says a silent prayer of thanks when Kala returns with Katniss' tea, her presence cutting the tension in the room like a knife.

"Gale," she says softly, as if anything too loud would shatter both him and Katniss completely. "You're wanted in 5."

It takes him longer than he would care to admit to understand what Kala is trying to tell him. The press interview. Kala stands, awaiting instruction.

"Right," he glances at Katniss, who is warming her hands against the sides of her mug and pretending not to listen to their conversation. This is it, his way out. He's a busy enough man; it would not be difficult for his schedule to keep him busy for the day.

"Katniss," he calls out to her and ignores the tingling sensation that courses through his veins at her name. When she meets his eyes he's so breathless that he almost can't get out his next words. "I will be right back."

It seems to him that her face falls slightly, gaze dropping to her tea. "Sure."

He takes one last long look at her, one that Katniss doesn't meet, before exiting his office, Kala at his heels.

* * *

Closing the door to his office, and on Katniss, Gale Hawthorne gasped for air.

His feet moved on their own accord, bringing him down the hallway, around the corner, and towards the waiting reporters. This was his job. This was his life. District 12 and everyone there felt like another lifetime ago. Did Katniss expect him to drop everything just because she decided to show up unexpectedly? It was an intrusion in every sense of the word.

And yet, his mind betrayed him and recalls that last memory before he turned his back on her. She looked so fragile then, and its hard to believe that she was the same girl who taught him how to shoot a bow and arrow, the same girl who never met a tree she couldn't climb, and who bravely took on the Capitol.

Gale felt such an overwhelming sense of pride and affection towards her, Katniss—his Catnip. And though he can't separate his feelings of guilt, responsibility, and sadness from her, he at least owes her this. Owes this to who they were, who they used to be to each other, what they used to share.

He stops short. "Kala," his voice is sure and steady. "Good luck with the reporters today, I'm sure you'll do great."

Kala, at his elbow, only takes a split second to understand him. "Gale…"

"I'm sorry to do this to you suddenly, Kala," and to his credit Gale does sound legitimately sorry. "And please cancel all my appointments today."

Turning on his heel and leaving one astonished assistant in his wake, Gale retreated with quick steps toward his office, hoping against hope that he wasn't too late.

* * *

Katniss Everdeen sat alone in Gale's expansive office, smarting with rejection and despondent in her disappointment. She knew that her relationship with Gale was strained, and she knew that it was unfair to show up like this without warning, but she didn't expect him to dismiss her—to lie to her. She knew before he did that he wouldn't be "right back." That even if she sat in his office for the whole day, she wouldn't see him again.

So this was her answer then.

She had come to see if there was anything to salvage, if they could heal each others' hurt, if they could be _them_ again.

But he could barely stand to be in the same room as her for more than a few minutes.

This was how far Gale and Katniss would go. It seemed unfair, unjust, and simply wrong. A tragic ending for two people who had been able to look at a wooden glen and see the same things, think the same things, feel the same things. They had been one and the same once, and now they were nothing. Katniss couldn't blame him, and yet, it seemed unthinkable that she should have to live the rest of her sorry life without him.

Despite herself, Katniss' last reserves broke under her feelings of abandonment. Hot tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, another part of herself dying right there in the coldness of Gale's office.

Katniss had come with a question, seeking. Empty and alone, this was her answer.

* * *

Gale burst through his door and either he's gotten quieter in his steps or Katniss' hearing has gotten worse, because she looks surprised to see him back and back so quickly. By the telltale sheen of her eyes, and the way she rubs at her cheeks, Gale knows that she's been crying and he hates himself for being the reason for her tears.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out, finally speaking to her and not at her. He takes smalls steps in her direction. "Katniss… I'm sorry," Gale says again because really, there's nothing else to say. It's all he has and he hopes it's enough.

Katniss is on her feet but refuses to look at him, there's so much to be sorry about between them that his apology has lost its meaning. She's so disappointed by this whole meeting that she wonders what she was hoping to find. His actions for the day let her know that he wasn't the person he used to be, and maybe she wasn't either. Maybe there's no use in trying to force something that died long ago.

But then he comes to a stop in front of her, and Gale slowly reaches for the delicate skin of her face, his trembling fingers turning her chin to look at him. Their proximity, the feel of her beneath his fingertips, the blazing eyes that stare back at him, and Gale's sharp intake echoes in his ears.

But then Katniss is hitting him, her fists coming in a fast fury, landing hits on his chest, abdomen, arms, anywhere she can.

"I hate you," she cries out in the midst of her attack.

Gale doesn't stop her or try to defend himself—he stands there and accepts every blow, every spiteful word, every angry tear. He deserves this, acknowledges wholeheartedly. But he knows there's no truth to her words, just as there's no honesty in her punches.

"I hate you," Katniss' voice breaks and then she's no longer hitting him as much as she is fisting his shirt in her clenched hands. The fight is leaving her, but as Gale's arms reach around her, she pushes at his chest, not wanting to give in, not yet. But he overpowers her, pulling her into him, holding her close, and it's so overwhelming that Katniss succumbs and clutches at his shoulders, crying into his chest.

Gale holds her for a long time, until her sobs have ceased wreaking havoc on her small body, and they stand there, gently rocking back in forth.

"I needed you," she whispered, her voice broken.

Gale takes a breath, needing to be strong for the both of them. "I know." And Katniss can hear the regret in his words.

"You weren't there."

"No," he acknowledges. Then, hesitatingly, "But I'm here now."


End file.
